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Catherine Castle

~ Romance for the Ages

Catherine Castle

Tag Archives: Gail Kittleson

Wednesday Writers Christmas Reads– Christmas Love Through the Ages with author Gail Kittleson

03 Wednesday Nov 2021

Posted by Catherine Castle in Blog, Book excerpts, Christmas Reads, clean romance, Guest Authors, Sweet romance, Wednesday Writers

≈ 6 Comments

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book excerpt from Christmas Love Through the Ages, Christmas Anthology, Christmas Love Through the Ages, Christmas reads, clean romance, Gail Kittleson, Goldmine Christmas, Wednesday Writers

Welcome to Wednesday Writers Christmas Reads! Today’s guest is Gail Kittleson who is highlighting a delightful Christmas Anthology called Christmas Love Through the Ages. I don’t know about you, but I love Christmas stories, and movies, and, well, anything Christmas. So let’s welcome Gail as she tells us a bit about this unique anthology and then she’ll share an excerpt from her story in the anthology . Welcome, Gail!

Thanks, Catherine.

Ready to get into the Christmas spirit?

Light the Yule log in your fireplace, grab a snuggly blanket and a mug of hot chocolate, and settle in for a long winter’s read of stories celebrating the season.

This festive collection honors your beloved traditions, reminds you of your moorings, and warms your heart. The authors include short stories and novellas that take you on a journey from the 19th century to today. You’ll travel from Bethlehem with the angel Gabriel to Korea with abandoned orphans, then back to the Midwest where you see old friends fall in love and new loves become best friends, then to Texas where you witness acts of selflessness in an airport.

Lena Nelson Dooley, Lisa Bell, Gail Kittleson, Cleo Lampos, and Paula Peckham offer these tales to you during this wonderful season of hope and possibility.

Welcome to Christmas Love Through the Ages.

And here’s an excerpt from my book in the collection Goldmine Christmas

Excerpt from Goldmine Christmas

By Gail Kittleson

The flashlight flickered. “Oh, drat, just a paragraph left.” The fickle mechanism finally obeyed Nel’s prodding, and the final sentences of Aunt Eileen’s letter invaded her consciousness.

This could be your opportunity to make a difference for the war effort, and to follow your own star. You would make a superb USO volunteer, and my friend says you would be welcome to stay with her parents.

Just think of it! Thousands of GIs from all over the States pass through the USOs Washington, D.C. each day, and they can get awfully homesick. A cheery word can mean so much.

What do you say? Hop on the bus and we can take the train out there together. I will await your response.

As ever,

Eileen

P.S. You have done your time with your family, dearie. You’re nearly twenty-two and deserve a life beyond Payson.

Aware of the wind strengthening, Nel stashed the letter in her sweater pocket and hurried to the house. All was quiet, with Linda still hard at work—that girl would make something of herself, for sure.

Pulling on her nightgown and settling into her corner refuge, a narrow mattress in the kitchen’s far corner, that dreadful sound still prevailed.

Slap…bang…slap… Blasted shutters. Ah well, she couldn’t sleep anyway, with visions of the nation’s Capitol dancing through her mind.

Picturing Aunt Eileen handing out donuts and steaming cups of coffee, chatting with the fellows and giving them a taste of home was easy. She’d always been so strong.

But visualizing herself in a great metropolis created quite the challenge. The very thought led to a perennial question: How on earth had Eileen and Mama ended up such opposites? Mama cared about one thing—pleasing Dad. And all he cared about was the Gold Mine Saloon and drinking.

Want to read more? You can find Goldmine Christmas and the other Christmas stories on Amazon

About the Author:

A former college writing instructor, Gail lives with her retired Army chaplain husband in Northern Iowa and writes Women’s Historical Fiction, memoir and non-fiction. She enjoys grandchildren, gardening, and learning about history. In winter, she writes from Arizona’s beautiful Mogollon Rim Country.

No matter how dire the circumstances, you can count on Gail’s make-do World War II characters to discover new strength and move forward under duress. Facilitating writing workshops and retreats provides Gail’s “teaching fix” and a chance to cheer on other writers. 

Follow Gail on social media at:

Gail Kittleson: Facebook: Twitter @GailGkittleson: @gailkittlesonauthor (Instagram)

A Writer’s Garden–A Cottage Garden from Gail Kittleson

28 Thursday Oct 2021

Posted by Catherine Castle in A Writer's Garden, Blog, books, clean romance, garden blog series, Guest Authors, romance author

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A Writer's Garden, cottage gardens, flowers, Gail Kittleson, WWII romance

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing. Today’s writer/gardener guest is Gail Kittleson, talking about her cottage garden. Welcome, Gail!

It’s been interesting watching our cottage garden grow this year, especially since the hero of my novel-in-progress was growing one, too. 

A Nineteenth Century British woman, Clare Lucas Balfour, wrote:

“What a desolate place would be a world without a flower! It would be a face without a smile, a feast without a welcome. Are not flowers the stars of the earth, and are not the stars our flowers of heaven?” Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Political (1917)

What would the heavens be without stars? And we might echo this thought concerning the earth and flowers. The beauty stars and flowers bring to our world, though, cannot be measured in exactness.

            How often did glancing out the window at our cottage garden warm my heart this summer? How many times have your spring or summer or fall flowers lightened yours?

          I could add a few pages of quotes here—but this one from Joseph Addison will do. “There is nothing that makes its way more directly to the soul than beauty.”

When we’re really down, we need encouragement in the worst way. Sometimes we can barely hold our head up, and things like flowers and stars can make an enormous difference. The fictional hero who spent the summer with me knew this because he’d grown up with his grandfather’s garden.

And his grandfather patterned his gardens after…drum roll…writers! Check out the cottage gardens of Thomas Hardy and Beatrix Potter!

About the Writer/Gardener:

Gardening “grew” on Gail Kittleson, who writes World War II fiction. She’s always dabbled, but having lived long enough to see the consequences of planting a sprout or seedling, now spends more time thinking through her gardening decisions. Since victory gardens became so vital during the Forties, they play a role in several of Gail’s novels.


Follow Gail on social media at:

Gail Kittleson: Facebook: Twitter @GailGkittleson: @gailkittlesonauthor (Instagram)

You can check out Gail’s books on Amazon

Land That I Love

by Gail Kitteson

Land That I Love by [Gail Kittleson]

Set in the German Hill Country of Texas during World War II, Land That I Love is a sweeping literary novel of love and loss; friendship and animosity; fathers and sons; and coping during times of war and peace. Yet it is more than a love story. It is about the racism and bigotry that still exist in our world. As author Gail Kittleson’s characters struggle with the problems of everyday life, they teach us that we survive hard times by being good neighbors despite our differences and that hatred can be conquered by love, understanding and forgiveness.

Musings from a Writer’s Brain–Musings Then and Now by Gail Kittleson

22 Monday Feb 2021

Posted by Catherine Castle in essay, Guest Authors, Musings from a Writer's Brain, non-fiction

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biography, Country music, Country Music's Hidden Gem: The Redd Stewart Story, Gail Kittleson, Musings from a Writer's Brain, Redd Stewart., Tennessee Waltz

Wondering about my musings often leads me to other authors. J. M. Barrie, the enormously creative writer who gave us Peter Pan, provided insights into his Muse in an address to future clerics at the University of St. Andrew in Scotland in 1922.

In post World War I times, his perspective must have refreshed his audience, and his ability to laugh at himself is priceless. Several portions of this speech qualify as quotable, but here, he addresses his inner musings.

“M’Connachie, I should explain, as I have undertaken to open the innermost doors, is the name I give to the unruly half of myself: the writing half. We are complement and supplement. I am the half that is dour and practical and canny, he is the fanciful half; my desire is to be the family solicitor, standing firm on my hearthrug among the harsh realities of the office furniture; while he prefers to fly around on one wing. I should not mind him doing that, but he drags me with him. I have sworn that M’Connachie shall not interfere with this address to-day; but there is no telling. I might have done things worth while if it had not been for M’Connachie, and my first piece of advice to you at any rate shall be sound: don’t copy me.

“Courage”, J.M. Barrie Rectorial Address, St. Andrews University, May 3, 1922

Don’t we love it when writers “let down their hair”? Barrie uses humor and creativity to describe his mind’s musings. His last sentence makes me smile: of course this suggestion has not been used yet!

In the solemn halls of the scholarly, few individuals would bare their souls as Barrie was doing. Oh, to interview some students from his audience! His transparent, humble honesty surely fell on eager ears.

Barrie also mentioned pertinent societal events—the devastation of World War I still reverberated. His mix of utter seriousness with self-deprecating humor touches me even now. We can all be grateful that, at least some of the time, he let M’Connachie take the lead.

The next time I wonder about the state of my mind, hopefully I’ll remember the delights J. M. Barrie brought to his era and bequeathed to future generations. I daresay he would never have imagined the extent of his influence.

(If you’d like to read the full speech, it’s here

If you’d like to read about other persons whose Muses have inspired Gail, check out her book about Billy Rae Stewart, Country Music’s Hidden Gem: The Redd Stewart Story.

Available on Amazon

Country Music’s Hidden Gem: The Redd Stewart Story,

by Gail Kittleson

Redd Stewart’s journey began as more than just another rags-to-riches story, but with an essential heritage of family love and music that would later shape him into one of the music world’s greatest ‘unsung heroes.’

His life inspired others to do better, to be better, to love unconditionally, and to share with others the blessing of God-given talent. He was a man who never asked for personal praise, but whose individual contribution to the Country and Pop music industries is still alive throughout the world today.

Many of the songs written by Redd have been performed and recorded by such entertainment legends as Patti Page, Hank Williams, Roy Rogers, Dean Martin, Michael Bublé, and the list goes on. He was heard to say in all humility, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

Follow these pages of heartfelt thoughts about our subject as explored in detail by the musician, author, and loving son of this sincere man, revealed for the first time is the real-life love story that inspired the lyrics to the world’s most famous Country music song; the beautiful Tennessee Waltz.

About the Author:

Writing has always been Gail’s passion. Her Women of the Heartland series honors make-do Greatest Generation women who sacrificed so much for the cause of freedom.

Gail and her husband live in northern Iowa and retreat to Arizona’s Mogollon Rim Country in winter. They also enjoy grandchildren and gardening. It’s no secret why this late-bloomer calls her website DARE TO BLOOM, and she loves to encourage other writers through facilitating workshops.

Connect with Gail on her Website: Facebook or Twitter or Instagram @gailkittlesonauthor \

@GailGkittleson

A Writer’s Garden–When a Garden Resembles a Manuscript by Gail Kittleson

04 Thursday Jun 2020

Posted by Catherine Castle in A Writer's Garden, garden blog series

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

A Writer's Garden, flowers, Gail Kittleson, Garden blog, Spring Garden, Until Then clean romance, World WAr II Fiction

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing. Today’s writer/gardener guest is Gail Kittleson, who is sharing her North Iowa spring garden.

Welcome, Gail!

 

 

Right now, our North Iowa garden resembles a manuscript that’s underway but certainly not near completion. That’s the way of gardens—nothing is ever truly static. The good thing is, every day offers beauty, even if the plants or the weather take peculiar turns.

In May, the lilacs took precedence. Everything else remained brown most of the month, and looked pretty bleak. But the enticing scent of lilacs in bloom broke in, and their blossoms won our winter-weary hearts as they do every spring.

When we moved here fourteen years ago, the house had sat empty, and the previous occupants paid no attention to making this place pleasant to the eye. One of the first buildings in our town (1873, pretty old for Northern Iowa), the house was more of an eyesore.

An addition, a fence, and some planting created a courtyard. There, honeysuckle flowers’ sweet aroma attracts birds and bees right now.

A long narrow area along the south side has now evolved into a space that makes us smile. For the first few years here, this low area held puddles and weeds.

I honestly never foresaw making a path here, but the growing lilacs and spreading ground cover narrowed the space, and our trips back and forth to the garage created a natural one. Then a friend about an hour away showed me her lovely back yard, with limestone steppingstones. I brought the idea home and a couple of years later, voila!

Still a work in progress, and the secondary story of this manuscript is being written by the birds. They’ve taken over this new habitat and offer raucous cheer at five a.m., plus robins’ nests to watch.

Ever changing, beauty in every corner…that’s our garden in early June.

 

 

About the Writer/Gardener:

 

Gardening “grew” on Gail Kittleson, who writes World War II fiction. She’s always dabbled, but having lived long enough to see the consequences of planting a sprout or seedling, now spends more time thinking through her gardening decisions. Since victory gardens became so vital during the Forties, they play a role in several of Gail’s novels. She awaits the release of her first WWII non-fiction book, “The Food That Held The World Together.”

Connect with Gail at:

http://amazon.com/author/gailkittleson

www.twitter.com/GailGkittleson @GailGkittleson

@gailkittlesonauthor (Instagram)

While you wait on Gail’s newest release, check out her other books. Until Then is her last release.

Buy Link

 

 

Musings from a Writer’s Brain with Gail Kittleson

16 Monday Sep 2019

Posted by Catherine Castle in essay, Musings from a Writer's Brain

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Catherine Castle Musings from a Writer's brain, Gail Kittleson, Until Then, WWII fiction, WWII nurses

Using Real-life Experiences in Our Writing . . . Or Not!

by Gail Kittleson

Sometimes we can use our real-life experiences in our manuscripts. Often, something you’ve experienced fits right into your story—you know the emotional reactions by heart because you’ve lived them. But it would be a mistake to think that everything we go through in life qualifies as novel fodder.

My husband and I recently spent a week with our church youth group as they traveled to Arizona to work for Habitat for Humanity, help out at a food bank, and see some of the area’s sights.

What a great bunch of Iowa youth—they set out determined to maintain cheerful attitudes and make a difference in this needy world. Every time we’ve taken a youth group to do work like this, people are surprised at how much they accomplish and how fast they complete the jobs. Without fail, supervisors wish they’d prepared more for them to do. It’s ten a.m. of the first morning, and they’ve already finished a full day’s tasks.

This time, I was recovering from a stem cell procedure on my hip, so that limited my involvement. But I made myself available to play Scrabble or a card game in the evenings, and helped make sure the food supply remained adequate.

One evening, the array of healing supplements I was taking for my condition caught up with my gastrointestinal tract. After dinner, some of the adults were sitting around discussing the beautiful weather and the abundant wildlife all around us. A few elk appeared on the property, and the youth went out for a closer look.

That’s when the warning signs occurred. Unmistakable rumblings and gurgling. Yep, diarrhea had showed up. You know how sneaky it can be, and how quickly one needs to hurry to the closest bathroom.

Fortunately, it wasn’t far away, and I got there in time. Relief! But at the same time, concern overwhelmed me. How could I heal if I couldn’t handle taking the required supplements?

I uttered something like, “Good grief—I really need help!” After cleaning up the area, I headed back into the hallway.

Just then, two of our teenagers almost ran into me and asked, “Have you seen Mellie? We’re playing hide and seek and haven’t been able to find her for a long time.”

“No . . .”

Suddenly a teen careened from the small bathroom I’d just exited. She looked a little pale —a greenish cast to her skin. A little sick.

“Mellie? Where were you? We’ve been hunting all over.”

“In there,” she gasped. “I was hiding in the shower.”

“You’ve been in there this whole time?”

“Yeah, but somebody just came in and . . .”

Now I must have looked sick.

“Oh no!” I blurted. “I’m so sorry—it must smell just awful in there.”

One of the other girls took a whiff and confirmed the truth. Then she bent double with laughter and the other two girls joined her.

I hope Mellie isn’t traumatized for life.

We never know when life will surprise us, or how. At times like this, keeping our composure offers the greatest challenge of all. I wonder if Mellie and I will ever be able to look each other in the eye again without bursting into laughter.

I’ve also been trying to think how this scene might work for one of my characters someday, but so far, nothing has come to mind. When you’re dealing with life and death situations in wartime, a bout of diarrhea and a little embarrassment don’t even compare.

About the Author:

An Iowa “baby boomer,” Gail Kittleson became addicted to books at an early age and spent as much time in the town library as possible. After earning her M.A. in Teaching English as a Second Language and some missionary work in North Africa, she instructed college writing and ESL courses. Years later, she penned a memoir. Soon after that publication, the fiction bug bit her HARD, so she writes World War women’s fiction and facilitates writing workshops and retreats. She and her husband, a retired Army Chaplain, enjoy gardening and grandchildren in northern Iowa, and the amazing Ponderosa forest under Arizona’s Mogollon Rim in winter.

Connect with Gail at http://www.gailkittleson.com/

www.facebook.com/GailKittlesonAuthor

http://amazon.com/author/gailkittleson

Until Then

by Gail Kittleson

March 3, 1943

Bethnal Green, London’s East End

Shortly after a quarter past eight, a siren split the air. Marian Williams lifted her sleeping daughter from her bed and darted down the stairs. Her mother and father-in-law, off on air warden duty, had left the front door unlocked.

She hugged her youngest child close. The blackout made the going difficult, but her husband’s instructions echoed in her brain: “Whatever you do, get down inside the station fast as you can.”

She hoped for a spot near the canteen, with access to milk. Uneven light shone over the paved steps. Then she tripped. Her knee hit the concrete, then something bashed her left side. Someone cried out. Another blow scraped her arm on the landing floor. Where was her baby? She attempted to get up, but an even heavier weight slammed her face down. A crushing burden descended, then all went black.

Riding in the backs of Army trucks across North Africa, throughout the Sicily campaign, up the boot of Italy, and northward through France into Germany, Dorothy Woebbeking served as a surgical nurse with the 11th Evacuation Hospital.

During World War II, US Army nurses worked and slept in tents through horrific weather, endured enemy fire, and even the disdain of their own superior officers, who believed women had no place in war. But Dorothy and her comrades persevered, and their skills and upbeat attitude made a huge difference in the lives of thousands of wounded soldiers.

Dorothy and Marian’s stories converge on a simple, hand stitched handkerchief.

My heroine and her real-life nurse buddies during the war.

 

Wednesday Writers–Until Then by Gail Kittleson

29 Wednesday May 2019

Posted by Catherine Castle in books, Wednesday Writers

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Catherine Castle's Wednsday Writers blog series, Excerpt from Until Then by Gail Kittleson, Gail Kittleson, historical fiction, WW II fiction

Today, Gail Kittleson visits the Wednesday Writers blog with some very interesting background on her newest upcoming World War II release, Until Then. She also has an excerpt that caught my attention. I hope you’ll enjoy it as well. Welcome, Gail!

Thanks, Catherine

War divides nations and isolates people, but also brings individuals together in remarkable ways.

 

Until Then

 

Millions of Allied troops listened to popular music during World War II. “Keep smiling through, a phrase from the song Until Then, became a motto, and if anyone had reason to subscribe to this philosophy, it was Dorothy Woebbeking, a nurse from Waterloo, Iowa.

I met my heroine’s daughter on Pinterest when we “pinned” some of the same WWII nurse photos. We began to correspond, and the more I discovered about her mother, the more I knew this story was a must-write.

The horrific Battle of the Kasserine Pass in North Africa? Dorothy was there with the Eleventh Evacuation Hospital. The endless agony at Anzio? Dorothy was there.

The Battle of the Bulge? Dorothy served those battle-weary troops, too. She earned no less than six World War II theater ribbons. Visiting her home in Illinois, I touched her helmet, her radio, studied her service record, and read the Florence Nightingale pledge she took so seriously. Dorothy’s daughter eventually helped me name this novel.

At the same time, another wartime situation gripped me. When Dorothy was beginning her service, the worst civilian tragedy in England occurred in a London tube station. Neither story would let me go, so my challenge became to thread them together.

My research deepened a sense of amazement at the tremendous sacrifices made by medical staff in their trek behind American troops across North Africa, through Sicily, up the boot of Italy, and northward through France and into Germany.

Even a few years ago, I knew nothing about the tube station tragedy, but my husband and I viewed the memorial last year when we visited England for our fortieth anniversary. Now I hold the victims and survivors in my heart and believe the sufferings of this generation must not be forgotten.

PHOTO of tube station victims. CAPTION: Listing of victims at Memorial

I hope readers find new appreciation for the Greatest Generation and their tremendous sacrifices.

This book will release in June, the seventy-fifth anniversary of the D-Day invasion, and will be available on amazon.com bn.com  itunes  kobo.com  scribd.com  smashwords.com  and other sites. I will post the purchase links on my blog as soon as possible. (http://www.gailkittleson.com/)

Excerpt from Until Then:

 

The sparkling Mediterranean beckoned, so Dorothy tore across the beach and plunged in. After swimming the safety zone and back, she dropped down beside Millie, who leaned her head back.

“What a perfect day!”

“Out here, you’d never know how close the war is.” As Dorothy dried her hair, a tall redheaded pilot approached with a towel slung over his shoulders. He dipped his head and saluted.

“Houston Pinkstone, here—they call me Pinky. And you ladies are?”

“Millie and Dorothy.” Millie answered for them both, and Dorothy took in this fellow’s jovial smile.

“Nurses with the Eleventh Evac, I presume?”

“How did you guess? And you’re RAF?”

“Ah, ‘twas my hair that gave me away…” His grin highlighted his dimples.

“Quite the sunburn you’re developing.” Millie’s comment teased out another smile.

“One day soon, this will peel into the best tan in all of Scotland. Of course, it may be years before I get back there.”

His freckled nose and forehead, also burned, brought out the sea shades of his eyes as he turned to Dorothy. “Where did you learn to swim like that?”

“In the Cedar River back home in Iowa. The mud held me up when my brothers tried to drown me.”

“Jolly good. Here, the salt water attends to that, righto?” He pointed out to sea. “See the chap out there in that boat? Why not swim there? Maybe he’ll invite you in.”

“He’s past the safety line.”

“But you’re a strong swimmer, and he’s there to save you.” The dare in his eyes proved irresistible. In spite of the warning written all over Millie’s face, Dorothy took him on and jogged to the shoreline.

In minutes, she grabbed the rowboat’s worn gunnel, and a dark-haired, mustached occupant greeted her in an unfamiliar accent. “Lovely day, Miss. You must be with the American hospital unit?”

She answered his questions about her background, but when she asked about him, he merely squinted into the sun. He looked at least forty, with a bit of white above his ears. Seeing he had no intention of inviting her in, Dorothy swam back to Millie and the pilot, who chatted about Delbert, also a pilot.

Dorothy waited for a pause and asked, “Did you think he would ask me in?”

Pinky’s robust laugh declared good-natured trickery. “I had no idea, but thought finding out a worthy quest. You have encountered royalty, my friend.”

“What?”

“You just passed the time of day with King Zog of Albania. When the Italians invaded in ’39, he fled his country with his wife and son. He’d already become a pilot, and once he got his family settled in old Blighty, he joined the RAF.”

Maybe he was still joking—his laughing eyes made it impossible to tell. Dorothy circled her hair with a towel and settled on the welcoming sand, but Millie stared at Pinky in wonderment.

“The King of Albania?” Her shocked expression could have sold for thousands of dollars. “Blighty?”

“Our most affectionate term for old England, dear.” Pinky ignored her other inquiry as he surveyed the Mediterranean. “Strange how this war brings us all together, kings and paupers alike.”

 

About  the Author

Gail writes from northern Iowa, where she and her husband enjoy grandchildren, gardening and historical documentaries. After instructing college writing classes, Gail gave in to the writing bug.

Eight novels later, she’s hopelessly addicted to the World War II era. Her historical fiction honors Greatest Generation women who made a difference despite great odds.

Gail facilitates writing workshops and retreats, where she enjoys guiding and cheering others on in their endeavors.

 

 

 

Wednesday Writers–For All the Brave Women by Gail Kittleson

29 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by Catherine Castle in Wednesday Writers

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Brave women, Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers blog series, Gail Kittleson, Historical author Gail Kittleson, Women of the Heartland series, WWII nurses, WWII research

Welcome to Wednesday Writers! Today, it’s my pleasure to welcome back to the blog Gail Kittleson, author of Women of the Heartland, World War II series. Today she’ll be talking about her research for another WWII book-in-progress featuring more brave women who helped win WWII. Welcome, Gail!

 

For All The Brave Women

By Gail Kittleson

 

This week marks the return of thousands of American young people to school. Life-long learners—this slogan, plastered on schoolroom doors and in hallways around the country, cites one goal of education. Some students, like my seventh grade granddaughter, can hardly wait…others would rather be doing just about anything else.

History was among my favorites during high school and college, and like most historical fiction authors, my research continues all year round. Right now, I’m wading through information about the invasions of Sicily, Italy, and Southern France in 1943-44.

Surrounded by texts on these topics, I’m always running into another “pocket.” That’s what WWII strategists called an area north of Geneva, Switzerland and south of Strasbourg.

German-born poet, novelist, and painter who authored Steppenwolf, Siddhartha, and The Glass Bead Game, which explore humankind’s search for authenticity, self-knowledge, and spirituality, said, “To study history means to submit to chaos and nevertheless retaining faith in order and meaning.”

I agree. Boy, did those WWII generals make some costly errors in their planning—the amount of suffering caused by those mistakes sickens me. From my viewpoint, even knowing very little about military tactics, it’s easy to see their blunders…but why couldn’t they?

Unfortunately, they were human. DRAT! And didn’t somebody say “to err is human…” Ah yes. Alexander Pope.

In the incidences I’ve been mulling, my heroine and her comrades might easily have lost their lives, all because a certain commander despised having women anywhere near combat. Even nurses. Seriously.

Well, it’s a free country, and he could have his opinion—our GIs were fighting for freedom, right? But he made decisions that endangered the nurses assigned to his command…on purpose. Most historians call him on that, and the drama he created—oh my! I certainly can’t deny the narrative potential of his deeply biased choices.

Besides that, I know that my heroine survived, because she was a real WWII nurse who lived until 2015. But she could easily have been killed because of this one powerful commander.

Well, it’s all in a day’s work, as they say. (Who is they, anyway?) I’ve moved on with my heroine up the boot of Italy and into Southern France. Together, we’ll soon cross the Rhine into Germany. Well, maybe not soon…there’s that little skirmish called the Battle of the Bulge left to consider.

She won a battle ribbon for that one, too.

My hat is off to the incredibly stalwart nurses who risked everything to care for the troops in harm’s way. How they survived is testimony to true grit, to borrow a great Western title. To courage and tenacity and humility and fortitude.

I can hardly wait to read this book, so I’d best get back to writing it!

 

About the Author:

Forever intrigued by the writing process, Gail researches ongoing World War II projects, including a co-written cozy mystery. She enjoys time with grandchildren, walking, and reading. Winters find her hiking with her husband under Arizona’s Mogollon Rim. She loves hearing from readers and facilitating writing workshops.

You can find Gail at:

http://www.gailkittleson.com/

www.facebook.com/GailKittlesonAuthor

www.twitter.com/GailGkittleson @GailGkittleson

 

 

Wednesday Writers–Ancient Treasures with Gail Kittleson

13 Wednesday Jun 2018

Posted by Catherine Castle in Wednesday Writers

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Ancient Treasures, Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers blog series, first Engliswoman to write a book, Gail Kittleson, Julian of Norwich, Women of the Heartland series

Welcome to Wednesday Writers!

Today I’m hosting Gail Kittleson on Wednesday Writers. Gail is a historical romance author, who writes about WWII. Her Women of the Heartland, World War II series, highlights women of The Greatest Generation. Today she’s taking us on a side trip to talk about the first English woman to write a book. You’ll want keep reading, because it’s not who you think it is. Welcome, Gail!

 

 

Ancient Treasures

By Gail Kittleson

Preparing for a recent fortieth anniversary trip to England, I re-discovered Julian of Norwich, who died in 1417. Before that, if you’d asked me to name the first English woman who wrote a book, I might have said Jane Austen. But long before Jane left her mark, Julian of Norwich left hers.

Julian became well known in England, and people flocked to her cell for spiritual advice. She was called “Renewer of the Church.” Her meditations, The Revelations of Divine Love, set forth eternal, all-embracing divine love.

Well known in England during this era of widespread epidemics, people looked to Julian for reassurance. Many monks taught that disease signified God’s angry punishment, while Julian wrote of a loving, even motherly God intent on creation’s good.

She viewed the Creator of all with a tiny object in his hand, like a small brown nut, so fragile and insignificant that she wondered why it even held together. The nut stood for the entire created universe, yet Julian heard this message with her vision: “God made it, God loves it, and God keeps it.”

She wrestled with the difficult moral decisions humans face. Sometimes we feel that no matter what, we act from impure motives, and can defend no decision. Finally, Julian concluded: “It is enough to be sure of the deed. Our courteous Lord will deign to redeem the motive.”

 I’d guess the monks of Julian’s day weren’t exactly delighted with her theology—human nature conjures images of the Divine patterned after our own shortcomings. Negativity surely fits that label, as does a tendency to feel hopelessly incapable of acting with wisdom in this world.

 As writers, we can certainly identify. But common people resonated to Julian’s perspective from the cell where she confined herself after undergoing a burial rite to signify her death to this world.

How wonderful to come to a point where with her, we say, “It is enough to do something (i.e., to write), led by my best instincts and thinking process. If I err, I fall upon the courtesy of our Lord.”

About the Author:

Gail taught college writing before becoming a late-blooming novelist, and now has four published novels celebrating WWII women, and a memoir.

When Gail’s not steeped in research, drafting scenes, or editing, she facilitates writing workshops and retreats in Iowa and Arizona, where winters find her enjoying the gorgeous Mogollon Rim. Favorites: grandchildren, exploring WWII sites with her husband, walking, reading, meeting new people, and hearing from readers who fall in love with her characters.

You can find Gail’s books on Amazon

You can connect with Gail at

http://www.gailkittleson.com/

www.facebook.com/GailKittlesonAuthor

www.twitter.com/GailGkittleson @GailGkittleson

 

 

 

 

 

A Writer’s Garden with Author Gail Kittleson

12 Thursday Apr 2018

Posted by Catherine Castle in A Writer's Garden, garden blog series, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

a garden blog, Catherine Castle's A Writer's Garden, Gail Kittleson, potato sprouts, Women of the Heartland series

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing gardens—aka their books. Today’s Guest is GAil Kittleson with a question for all you veggie gardeners out there. Welcome back, Gail!

 

Treasures in Our Cellar

By Gail Kittleson

 

After being gone for several months, I ventured into the gloom of our old-fashioned (a kind way of putting it) basement, a.k.a. cellar the other day. Certainly not a “finished” lower level, its limestone foundation has been added onto more than once.

I’ve forgotten what we were looking for, but here’s one item we found:

Yep, potatoes sprouted to kingdom come, and that was before we meandered further into the bowels of the cavern. For in an even darker room with windows at all, we found—voila!

These hungry-for-light specimens made the first two pails full look like youngsters. Our granddaughter, curious and scientific-minded student, exclaimed over these sprouts’ spectacular growth, and tweaked my imagination in the process. What IS it in a potato that seeks light so voraciously?

Onward to practical matters—shall we dig holes three and a half feet deep to plant our crop this year? But from the looks of the frozen landscape outdoors, that won’t be for at least two more weeks…definitely NOT the year to observe the old wives’ tale, “plant potatoes by Good Friday.” Not in Northern Iowa. Not in 2018.

So what would you gardeners do with these eager-to-grow survivors? We can still cook some of the veggies, however wizened they may appear. But should we snip off these sprouts at the usual length of a few inches? Will they still produce a crop?

I thought I’d share this deep philosophical question with Catherine’s green-thumbed followers — HELP!

 

About the Gardener/Writer

 Iowa born and bred, Gail spends the worst of winter in the Arizona mountains, where she and another author/college writing instructor facilitate a writers’ retreat.  Iowa’s seasonal changes and growing grandchildren keep Gail and her husband active. This year, to celebrate their fortieth anniversary, they’re heading to England to tour WWII sites and add novel fodder to Gail’s Forties’ Women’s Fiction.

You can find Gail at her website and on Facebook, Twitter and Amazon Author Central.

Women of the Heartland Series

by Gail Kittleson

From Book 1: Pearl Harbor attacked! The United States is at war. But Addie fights her own battles on the Iowa home front. Her controlling husband Harold vents his rage on her when his father’s stroke prevents him from joining the military. He degrades Addie, ridicules her productive victory garden, and even labels her childlessness as God’s punishment.

When he manipulates his way into a military unit bound for Normandy, Addie learns that her best friend Kate’s pilot husband has died on a mission, leaving her stranded in London in desperate straits. Will Addie be able to help Kate, and find courage to trust God with her future?

Women of the Heartland can be found at Amazon

 

Wednesday Writers–Gail Kittleson and A Secret Agent’s Inner Life

10 Wednesday Jan 2018

Posted by Catherine Castle in books, Wednesday Writers

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

A Purpose True, Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers blog series, Gail Kittleson, motherless daughters, secret agent's inner life, With Each, WWII fiction

I’m welcoming back Gail Kittleson to the blog today. Gail will be talking about the emotional state of the secret agent heroine of her books A Purpose True and With Each New Dawn, set in the tumultuous time of World War II.

 

A Secret Agent’s Inner Life

On the outside, Kate Isaacs, the heroine of A Purpose True and With Each New Dawn, strikes us as an inveterate risk-taker, a woman able to do anything. She wastes no time pondering proposed actions—she’s too busy doing something! At first glance, she wastes not a moment watching life pass her by, and we applaud her “go for it” attitude.

People are drawn to this sharp-witted, well-read young woman. She eloped with her husband straight out of high school, followed him to London after his Royal Air Force plane was downed, and searched for him far and wide. Nothing can stop her.

But I caught her in one of her quieter moments and posed a simple question. “If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?” Her immediate response revealed a vast, yawning hunger in her soul.

“I’d have a normal childhood, with my mother and father alive and well.”

Ah…when I was writing Kate’s story, the old spiritual, “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child…” never entered my mind. But looking back, it’s clear that the huge hole in Kate’s emotional being helped shape her into the adult she’s become.

Her mentor back in London warned her that waiting for an assignment would trouble her, and her sojourn as a secret agent in Southern France provided plenty of solitary times. During those periods when she had little control over anything, her mother’s face appeared from photos Kate had seen, and the reader finds her carrying on a conversation with this woman who gave her birth and died during Kate’s early childhood.

Kelly McDaniel, LPC, writes: “Hope Edelman’s book Motherless Daughters…offers help for women who experience early maternal death… ‘at some very deep level, nobody wants to believe that motherless children exist. …in our psyches …mother represents comfort and security no matter what our age.’ Italics mine.” https://kellymcdanieltherapy.com/wp-content/uploads/MotherHungerExplanation.pdf

 Kate may seem independent and in charge, but the look in her eyes tells another story. When all is said and done, when she’s avoided the Gestapo again in a heart-pounding near-disaster, when she’s all alone in an isolated cave and the future seems so tenuous, this mother hunger rises from a place deep within.

But it’s World War II, and no therapist or support groups exist. Kate’s role often demands solitude. In these honest moments when her hunger envelops her, she confronts her great need. She speaks with her mother…declares her longings out loud. And sometimes, in a way she finds difficult to verbalize, she senses her mother near.

Each confrontation of her deepest fears increases her breathing space a tiny bit more. As she risks her life for the freedom of la France, her own freedom grows, as well. This universal premise rings true for us all—facing our fears, though it’s terrifying, strengthens us in ways we could never have imagined.

About the Author:

 

Forever intrigued by the writing process, Gail researches ongoing World War II projects, including a co-written cozy mystery. She enjoys time with grandchildren, walking, and reading. Winters find her hiking with her husband under Arizona’s Mogollon Rim. She loves hearing from readers and facilitating writing workshops.

Social Media Sites: Website  Facebook  Amazon  Twitter  @GailGkittleson

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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